Disclaimer: I don't own the GW characters, nor do I make any money from writing.

Note: As someone quite rightly remarked, my definition of the word 'one shot' is a little on the hazy side. Oh, well. Thanks, as always, to KS, for editing.

Across the Universe:

Two hours to go. I glance at my watch and find five minutes – cinq minutes – have passed since the last time. Time is obviously on a go slow.

Quatre, who's seated beside me, has fallen asleep. Asleep! We are hurtling through space at a zillion miles an hour or something and my best friend is snoring gently.

Of course, he's been on space shuttles plenty of times. It's all old hat for him. For me, it's stunningly new. A new beret, heh heh!

I tried to tone down my enthusiasm a little bit after he said how 'cute' it was, but come on! It's a shuttle. To Earth. My first time ever to fly! How is that not cool? Thanks to Quat, we're travelling first class. According to him, it's not even costing any extra; he's just using up Frequent Flyer miles or something like that to get an upgrade.

I tried to protest that I shouldn't be using up the perks on his account, but that was before I'd actually seen the First Class cabin. We've got proper reclining chairs and fleecy blankets and pillows and our own individual TV monitors with seventy gazillion channels. And you can eat and drink all you want. Quat says you're not meant to take that as a personal challenge, so I've been fairly restrained.

Well, sort of. I take the menu of the little pocket by the side of my chair and flick through it. Maybe just a soda or something and some cashew nuts or chocolate? Just a little snack.

The stewardess is by my side in an instant; a side benefit of travelling with Quatre Winner. It's a bit like that when I go out with Heero too. People know who he is and leap to attention.

Or maybe it's just the fact that he's obviously used to getting that sort of service; that uber-sexy commanding air of his.

OK, Duo. Just breathe. You'll be seeing him really, really soon. Two hours minus fifteen.

Life can change pretty fast.

Four weeks ago, I'd been looking at the universe through crap-coloured glasses; now it's sunshine and blue skies all the way.

Probably.

I have a new boyfriend, a new job, a new home. And my best friend has arranged to postpone his flight home so we can leave L2 together. He's getting a direct flight from Paris to Sanque as soon as we land, but it still means I have company on my first ever spaceflight.

Packing up the house we'd shared for two years had been sort of sad; we'd had a lot of fun living together. I had to keep reminding myself that he'd only be a short flight away for a month or so, before moving to France himself.

So here I am. Hurtling across the galaxy to a whole new existence, with all my worldly goods either stowed away in the hold, or stashed under the seat in my little backpack.

The stuffed frog sitting on the arm of my chair was a leaving gift from Hilde and Howard. They'd taken me out for lunch on my last day, and given me cards and the gift. I'd looked up frog in my new French dictionary; it was Grenouille so that was what I'd called him. Monsieur Grenouille.

I hadn't had any sort of official leaving party. First off, no one would probably have come. If they had, it wouldn't have been with the intention of wishing me well.

No way.

I'd heard plenty of comments in my last few weeks, about how that slut Maxwell had got his promotion; about the sort of things I'd undoubtedly done to get it. Most of them weren't even anatomically possible. At least, I didn't think so. I sort of hoped not.

They'd at least been subtle while Heero was still around. He'd been called back to Earth a couple of weeks earlier to work on a new project with Mr. Lowe, whom I'm supposed to call Odin now.

Yeah, I can't really see that happening any time soon. Not that he hasn't been perfectly pleasant to me on the two occasions when we've actually spoken to each other, but he seemed far like a Mr. Lowe than an Odin.

Not like Odin isn't a damn intimidating name in its own right. Maybe a bit less so that Zeus, but still way up there.

Anyway.

I guess I'll try to get used to it, because it's what Heero wants.

And at least he seems to like me. having spent the past couple of years working in a fairly hostile environment, it was a relief to meet someone who was even moderately friendly.

The last ten or so days of work hadn't been pleasant. I really hoped it was all going to work out with Heero and France. I'd pretty much burnt my bridges on L2.

I don't have Heero's IT skills – he's quite extraordinarily skilful in all sorts of fun ways - but I'm a semi-decent hacker. Most people at work have the most unimaginative passwords ever. I'd spent my last couple of hours at Lowe Industries (L2) having a little bit of fun with certain people's email accounts.

I definitely won't be going back there to work.

Along with the dictionary and the frog, my bag holds a well-thumbed copy of The Rough Guide to France, a short history of Paris, and a little notebook and pencil for new words. Quat has been giving me some basic French lessons, although according to Heero business at Lowe Industries is mostly conducted in English.

Still, I want to have an idea what is going on around me.

Oh, God.

Admit it, I haven't a clue what's going on with any of this. I'm leaving everything I've ever known to cross the universe just because Heero's going to be waiting for me. And, yeah, there's the new job and all, but I'm pretty sure none of that would have happened without Heero pulling a few strings in the background.

Really, it's all about him.

I've worked with Heero Yuy for almost six months. He's very good at getting what he wants. Fortunately, top of the list is currently me.

Beside me, Quatre stirs in his seat, stretching.

'Hey.' I grin at him. 'Welcome back.'

'I wasn't really asleep.' Quatre shoves one hand through his tousled hair. 'Are we there yet?'

'Nope. Still nearly two hours to go.'

Deux heures. And then there'll be all sorts of immigration formalities to go through. I won't get to see Heero for ages.

Quatre dives into his pocket for his cell phone which has just beeped. A smile and a big sappy sigh later and he's busily keying in a reply.

'Is that from Trowa?'

Well, duh. Of course it is.

It's been Trowa, non stop, ever since they first met. Erm, talked. Sometimes, I haven't even been able to get a word in about Heero. They are so perfect for each other, those two, albeit in a slightly geeky freaky way. Like last week, they spent a ridiculous amount of time capping each other's Douglas Adam's references. And they can get hours of entertainment discussing every single note in a piece of classical music.

Lucky they found each other, really. There can't be too many guys in the universe who'd be turned on by stuff like that.

Quatre nods, smiling again at what Trowa has written, and I notice his hand shakes, very slightly, as he returns the 'phone to his pocket.

I keep forgetting this is a pretty big deal for him too.

The first time to see his family in two years. I'm not sure if he's exactly going to be getting the red carpet and the fatted calf. He's adamant that he's returning on his own terms, but his family aren't exactly going to be ecstatic over their only son having blown up the closet after walking out of it. He spent a few years pretending when he was a teenager; even went on a few dates with suitable girls that his parents liked, just to keep them happy. That won't be happening any more.

There's Trowa in the equation for him now.

'Quat, are you nervous at all?'

'Oh, gosh no. I'm excited obviously, and a little apprehensive, which is perfectly natural, but, not nervous.' His bright smile wilts suddenly as he turns to look at me. 'Oh, God, Duo, I'm terrified. Maybe I'm making a huge mistake. Maybe I should've just stayed on L2. I'm going back to live at home, for heaven's sake. It's like going back to my childhood. My mother will expect me to be on time for meals, and to eat all my vegetables, and Father will want to know exactly what I'm doing every minute of every day. It's going to be appalling.'

'It's just for a few weeks, though,' I say encouragingly. 'Just while you sort out a place to live in Paris, and get brought up to speed on the stuff you'll be working on. It can't be that bad. Besides, you're lucky, you know. At least you're not going to be with total strangers.'

It's odd; I'm used to Quatre being this totally in-charge, confident person. (Except when it comes to guys.) It's kind of hard to imagine him going back and being the youngest kid of a huge family.

'I'd love to be going to live with total strangers,' he informs me fervently. 'I'd love it.'

'Well, maybe we could swap. You haven't been home in a couple of years. They might've forgotten what you look like.'

'Oh, I think Heero might notice the difference.' He gives me an arch little smile, and then his face sags again. 'And my mother will be trying to fix me up with all her friends' daughters, in the hope that it will 'cure' me, and my father will probably give me bracing lectures on 'manliness' and it's just going to be horrible.'

'No, it's not. It's just something you're going to have to put it up with for less than a month. You can do that.'

'Without slaughtering my whole family?'

'I have total faith in your non-slaughtering abilities. You're a pacifist, remember?'

'Perhaps I should have it tattooed on my hands so I do remember.' He picks up my little frog, turning it over in his hands.

'You'll be fine. You can call me whenever you want, and you've got Trowa to look forward to. If you talk about him non-stop, they might get the message that you're actually G-A-Y and it's an incurable condition.'

That produces the faintest of smiles, as one finger strokes my little frog's head. La tete de ma grenouille, in other words. 'Duo, what if Trowa doesn't like me when we finally meet?'

'Oh, come on! He's already crazy about you, just from talking on the 'phone and sending emails. How is he not going to fall head over heels for you, the minute he sees you?'

I try to sound as positive as I can. Really, I can see why he's so worried about all this. Trowa Barton has pretty much become the centre of his world lately and according to Heero, it's totally mutual. But, still, they've never actually met.

I'd be freaking out too.

At least, I've met Heero. Granted, we haven't had much time together, but we managed to have a few dates before he had to fly Earthside.

Right from the start, he was adamant that there was going to be a – courtship, I guess. No jumping into bed right from the word go.

He's perfect.

Right?

I mean, it's good that he wants to wait, and for us to get to know each other better and not just leap on each other.

Of course, it's good. It's caring and considerate and sweet and frustrating as hell.

No. No, scratch the last one. It's really good that I have a boyfriend who wants more than just sex; who appreciates my wit and humour and imagination.

Isn't it?

I mean, he does want to have sex with me at some stage, doesn't he?

'I hope so!' Quatre says fervently. It's nice that Q is so involved on my behalf. Oops. Yeah, we were talking about Trowa. Focus, Duo. 'I know it's stupid, but I'm so bad at picking guys normally.'

That's true. For a smart, astute type, he's thick as the wall when it comes to finding boyfriends. It doesn't help that he's rich and a soft touch. Not physically – well, actually I don't know about that; I guess Trowa will be discovering that in a while – but he's a sucker for hard luck stories. Guys tend to take advantage of that.

'You didn't pick Trowa,' I say firmly. 'You found him totally by accident and he sounds great. He's got a cool job, he's smart, he hasn't stung you for a loan yet. I mean, he's way ahead on points so far over pretty much every guy you've ever dated since I met you.'

'That's true,' he admits.

'And his best friend is Heero, so he has great taste!' I wink at him. 'Like that's not obvious already. Seriously, he is going to adore you. I promise. You know, if it's any help at all, I'm nervous as hell too,' I confess and he stares at me.

'You don't have to be. You know Heero. You've worked with him for months.'

'I know him as the guy I worked with,' I say slowly. In one way, it's a relief to actually get all this off my chest. The past couple of weeks have been manic for both of us; we haven't really sat down and talked about how our lives are changing. In another way, verbalising it makes it into a real issue, stops me trying to convince myself I've landed in this fairytale romance.

'And yeah, we got on really well, but he was just a colleague, even I wanted to jump him like crazy. Or for him to jump on me. I wasn't that fussed which. It's a whole other ball game now. Oops, no pun intended. Then we had a couple of weeks dating, but there's still loads of stuff I don't know about him and he's the only person I know in France, and he's arranged for all of this so I seriously owe him. I'm going to be turning up at this new job as Odin's stepson's boyfriend. Everyone's going to think I'm only there because he's screwing me.'

'Duo, shhh. It's not like that.'

Oh, God. I haven't even realised my voice has been steadily rising.

'Quat, be realistic. There are dozens of other people at the L2 plant who are way, way more qualified than me for the transfer. People with all kinds of degrees and years of experience.'

'And what do you think happened? That Heero asked his step-father to give the job to you because you're his boyfriend?'

'Yeah. Oui.' I hadn't really framed it like that but that was pretty much what I did think. 'God knows, it's what every other person on L2 thinks.'

'You shouldn't listen to spiteful, mean-spirited people like that! They're just jealous of you.'

'I guess.' OK, Howard and Hilde had been great, but everyone else, even people I'd thought liked me, had treated me like a pariah since my new job was announced. I'd have been happy for someone else; for someone to get a wonderful opportunity. Hell, I'd tried so hard to be happy for Quat when he said he was going back to Earth, even though it had really hurt.

'It's true!' Quatre said firmly. 'Anyway, of course it didn't happen like that. Yes, it is possible that Heero suggested you as a likely candidate, but Mr. Lowe obviously had a high opinion of you anyway since you were the one he picked to partner Heero in the first place.'

Yeah.

Partner Heero.

Oh, stop dreaming Duo. He's still talking! Listen to the smart blond. He knows about this stuff.

'Anyway,' Quatre continues briskly, like he's ticking items off in his head; I sometimes wonder if his thoughts are organised into bullet points, 'you were short-listed for the post a couple of days before Heero told you how he felt about you. Let alone started dating you.'

'I know all that, Quat. It just seems – awfully like Heero planned it all. That I only got the job 'cause of him.'

'Oh, balderdash!'

Wow, cool word.

'Firstly, Odin Lowe hasn't built up a global company by nepotism.'

I look totally blank.

Only a possibly cool word. Nepotism sounds sort of kinky. And like demons are involved. Sex with demons. Ugh.

'It means hiring people because you're somehow connected to them, not because they're qualified for the job. He wouldn't have been able to do that for you, if he wanted to. Immigration to France is very strictly controlled; visas are only given to candidates in exceptional circumstances and you obviously qualify. If you hadn't met the criteria, you'd have been refused and Lowe Industries would have been fined for putting forward an ineligible candidate and wasting time.

'Secondly,' he makes a little hand gesture like he's tapping a clipboard, 'He may, just possibly, have been able to circumvent L2 emigration policy by bribing the relevant officials.'

He's being very polite here; everyone knows that L2 bureaucracy is totally corrupt.

'But there's no way he could have influenced the Department of Foreign Affairs in Paris.'

'OK, OK,' I smile at him gratefully. D'accord. God, everyone should have a Quatre in their lives. If Trowa dares to hurt him, ever, I'll…well, I don't know what I'll do but it'll be something seriously awful.

'So stop worrying,' my wonderful best friend says firmly. 'You got the job on merit, and people will know that. It's not going to be like L2. I'm sure you'll make dozens of new friends. Duo,' he hesitates for a moment. 'When you said you thought you owed Heero, what exactly did you mean? Do you think he'll want….ah, certain favours in return?'

'No! He's not like that. I just, I don't know, want us to have an equal relationship. Or at least as equal as it can be. I mean, he's rich and gorgeous and educated, and totally amazing.'

'You're all those things too!' Quatre butts in. 'Oh, OK, maybe not rich, but that's just until you patent one of your inventions and make a fortune. That company should be thanking their lucky stars you work for them and not the competition. And Heero's the one who owes you, if anything. You're moving all the way across the galaxy to be with him. He'd better treat you like a king.'

'He does.' I can feel my mouth curve into a smile, and my cheeks colour slightly, at the memory of how Heero treats me. And that's even without the sex being had. 'Quat, can you come and work for me as my own personal cheerleader? Please?'

'Of course I can. Right after my family disowns me again, I'll be looking for a new job.'

'You stop that! It sounds to me like your father's actually starting to appreciate you for the first time, since you stood up to him. No way is he going to let a genius like you walk off to work for someone else!' I tip him a deliberate wink. 'Besides, I'm sure Trowa will offer you a position, heh heh, as his personal sex slave.'

'That would be fantastic!' Quatre looks radiant at the thought. Lucky Trowa.

'Another thing, Q. We haven't really talked about …. You know.'

Rather than saying the word, I make a circle with my left thumb and forefinger and stick my right finger through.

It's Quat's turn to look clueless and I make the gesture again.

'Oh! OH! Let me guess. Don't tell me! You haven't talked about finger puppetry?'

God, I sometimes wonder what planet he's actually from. Guess they didn't teach Obscene Gestures 101 at his boarding school.

'Sex, Quat.' I lower my voice.

Faire amour. Coucher avec Heero. Not if I get my way, that there will be much couchering going on.

'Oh, SEX!'

Heads instantly turn to look at us.

'What haven't you talked about?'

I swallow. This is going to be hard. Hard. Heero all hard and wanting me…..No. Difficult. Difficile.'Ah, the time frame,' I say delicately.

Quatre's brow wrinkles as he thinks about that. 'Do you mean, um, the time it takes to reach orgasm? Because I don't think there really is a ….'

'No!' OK, had to stop him before he started talking about his personal best. Worst. Whatever. 'Just that we haven't – you know – done it yet.'

Hadn't done much of anything really. We'd had a couple of nice meals out and a night at the movies and one evening he'd cooked dinner for me at his place. That was the night I'd thought we'd end up in bed, and he'd explained that he wanted to take things all slowly and stuff.

'Do you really think he's going to jump on top of you the second we land?'

'No. Although I might jump on him if he doesn't move fast enough! I just don't want him to think that I'm this sex maniac.'

'He'll probably love having a boyfriend who's a sex maniac,' Quatre grins. 'Um, Duo, I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand what you mean about the time frame.'

'Just, you know, how long should we wait before doing it? I mean, you've met Heero; he probably has it all planned out on a spreadsheet, and he keeps saying that he wants to wait and for us to be friends.'

'Oh, that's so lovely!' Quatre breathes, the words floating out of his mouth in a pink, heart-shaped balloon.

Sure it is. Lovely if you're not the one being deprived of the chance of sleeping with the hottest guy in the known universe. No chance that Q will ever have that problem; I bet Trowa will drag him off to bed by the hair the minute they set eyes on each other.

'Yeah, yeah. I get the loveliness of it all. But I don't want to have to wait! Come on, it's not like we're total strangers. Like you said, we've known each other for months.'

My friend rolls his pretty blue eyes. 'Duo, have you actually said any of this to Heero?'

'Um.'

OK, that would be a no. I tried showing him a couple of times that I really didn't want to do the waiting thing but the guy has a scary level of willpower. Or maybe he just doesn't want me all that much.

'Not exactly.' I nibble the end of my braid uncertainly until Quatre takes it out of my mouth. 'I don't want him thinking I'm this shallow, slutty guy who's only after his body. I just really want to be with him, like that. You know?'

He nods fervently, his face taking on that lovesick puppy expression that gets brought out whenever Trowa –anything vaguely to do with Trowa – gets mentioned. Hmmm. Maybe he'll be the one hauling Trowa off to bed.

'Duo,' Quatre says gently. 'You're being an idiot. Tell Heero exactly what you just told me and I swear, he'll sweep off to bed so fast you'll think you're still in orbit.'

Oooh, that would be nice.

'You think?'

'I know. God, I've seen the two of you together. He's crazy about you. And he's probably scared that you'll think he's a shallow slutty guy who's only after your body if he makes advances.'

'I'd love him to make advances!'

And then love, and breakfast in bed, then the actual bed 'cause we'll need to change the sheets at some point, and then love, sweet love, again and…..

'Well, you're going to have to say so,' Quatre informs me, all brisk again. 'He's a wonderful person, and he knows how much your life is changing right now. He probably doesn't want to rush you into anything, or put you under any pressure. You just need to have a little talk with him and everything will be fine.'

He glows happily. I swear, the guy actually gets off on finding solutions to other people's problems.

I'm beaming back, running over conversations with Heero in my head. I guess Quat's right; he usually is. Heero, my darling, amazing, incredible boyfriend has been pretty adamant that he wants to take things slowly. Duh, Duo. He was doing it for my sake all along.

'I'm stupid sometimes, aren't I?'

Quat grins. 'Yes. It's lucky you can trade on your lucks or you'd never get anywhere!'

'Heh, once my looks get me into Heero's bed, PDQ, I'll be happy,' I retort.

I can do this. I can talk to him about all this. And, just in case, I can resort to extreme body language, in case he's all hung up on waiting until he's ticked off so many dates on his hypothetical spreadsheet. Who knows? Maybe it does exist; he loves columns of definite data. Loves them.

But, sometimes, things just feel right. Like you can measure out days and weeks, but not how you feel about another person, even if you haven't dated them for all that long. Sometimes, the quantity of time just isn't all that important.

Now, I just need to convince him of that.

Should be fun…..